Dystopia
by mayhavefakedit
Summary: Draco awakens from an injury only to discover he has no memory of the man he has become.  DG,  AU after Order of the Phoenix.
1. Prologue

Draco was watching himself carefully. He was going to wake up soon, and once that happened, he knew that life was going to change drastically.

Looking around the brightly lit hospital room, he saw curtains stained with what he could only hope weren't actually bodily fluids. The ceiling was spackled in such a way that it looked as though a layer of dirt rested under the white paint covering it. He glanced down. The tiles beneath his feet were a nondescript beige colour, adding to the generally depressing atmosphere the room evoked.

The only furniture in the small room was a bed, two chairs, and an assortment of Muggle machines. The bed's lone occupant was laying still. His blond hair looked greasy, and Draco gave a moment's thought as to whether this was due to a lack of washing or the less-than-flattering light being cast over the room by the odd, rectangular lights seemingly embedded in the ceiling.

Hair notwithstanding, Draco thought he looked much as he always did; his face was pale, the shadows under his eyes present as always, though perhaps a bit more exaggerated than was typical. His thin lips were firmly pressed together even in his slumber, his forehead creased lightly as though whatever his dreams were, they weren't tranquil in the least. That was normal as well, Draco acknowledged with a half smile—the past few months had been kind to few in the wizarding world.

Sliding his gaze from his own still body, he turned his attention to the witch occupying one of the chairs. Her hair, looking as almost as stringy as his own, was a faded red hue, dull from neglect. The bags under her eyes were as pronounced as his own, but her colour was improving, he noted with satisfaction.

Ginevra Malfoy. His wife—or one-time wife, he acknowledged with no small amount of disgust. Disgust for himself, for the situation that had landed him in this position: trapped in a place unreachable by any, one even he didn't truly understand.

It had been six days. Six days of doing nothing but existing, unable to understand why he wasn't a part of himself any longer. He could remember the first day clearly, he thought bitterly, how overjoyed he'd been to see Gin standing over him, the light behind her silhouetting her features as she peered worriedly down at him. Overcome with emotion at seeing how she had survived the events of the previous day, he had begun weeping, reaching out to the woman he loved. But she hadn't seen him. She'd seen a lifeless body lying on a hospital bed. She hadn't felt his hands grasp for her frantically, or heard his howls of terror at turning and seeing himself, still as death.

That first day had been hell. No one could see him. He'd run though the halls of the Muggle hospital, crying out for anyone, but there was no one to be found. No staff, no patients, no security… It was one long, empty hallway after another. The world had been whittled away to one small room with two occupants.

He had to have a nurse, he'd thought frantically, returning to his room and throwing himself down in an empty chair. Hospitals had nurses. His thoughts were interrupted by Ginevra, who sat in the chair beside him with a sigh.

For a moment, Draco could only look at his wife, who had her eyes fixed upon the body on the bed. She was beautiful in a way that only he would ever understand. Oh, physically she was attractive, and her disposition was easygoing enough to be enjoyable, fiery enough to prevent her from becoming boring. What was truly beautiful was the look in her eyes as she watched him intently, the hope and despair that filled her eyes. He wanted so desperately to hold her, to cradle her in his arms and breathe in her scent and wipe the desperation from her face. She seemed on the edge of cracking, and Draco miserably tore his eyes from her and glared at the floor, as though it were somehow at fault for this.

Just then, a nurse appeared, bustling in with a tight lipped smile and quick nod to Ginevra, who acknowledged her with only the slightest of glances.

"I see our patient has no change over the last few hours," the nurse said aloud, picking up a chart at the end of the bed and flipping through the pages on it. Draco had looked up in interest as he heard her speak, then leapt to his feet to glance over her shoulder at his chart.

Draco stared at the pages, blinked, and then stared again. Dimly, he heard the nurse suggesting to Ginny that she otherwise occupy herself, but the rest of her words went unnoticed as he looked in shock at the chart she still was focusing on. The pages, all of them, were blank.

Ginny shook her head mutely, apparently unwilling to discuss the situation. The nurse only made a noncommittal sound, replacing the chart at the end of Draco's bed with a brisk order to ring her if there was any change. Then she fiddled with a few of the many machines gracing the head of his bed and turned to leave the room.

Draco followed her to the door, screaming at her as she went, couldn't she see him, didn't she realize there had indeed been a change, that the change was trying desperately to reach her, reach anyone—and the nurse passed out of his room and faded into nothing, the hallway as empty as it had ever been.

Defeated, Draco could only return to his room, grabbing the chart from his bed and flipping through it wildly. Blank, blank, blank, he thought with increasing panic. He ran to the head of the bed, and, unable to look down at himself, studied the machines. No lights were lit, no sound was heard. Whatever the nurse had seen on the Muggle contraptions was invisible to him.

Draco had fallen to the floor in shock, not even realizing that the world around him was becoming darker until he opened his eyes again to find himself flat on his back, staring at the ceiling. And that had only been day one.

And now it had been six days. Ginevra was present more often than not, and sometimes she would lean close to his body, whispering words of love and encouragement. Usually, she just sat in one of the chairs at the end of his bed, her gaze vacant and unseeing, though always somehow fixed in his general direction. He was hurting her, and he didn't know how to stop.

But it was going to end soon. He didn't know how he knew that, but he did. Standing over himself, he knew with a certainty he couldn't explain that the body before him was going to awake, to rejoin the world familiar to him. But he wasn't going with it. He was going to remain in this empty world, void of all contact, existing, and yet, somehow not.

But things were going to change.

That was going to have to be enough for now.

Draco watched one of his eyelids twitch, heard a hoarse breath rattle from between his lips. Ginevra had clasped the arm of her chair with his first twitch, and at his long sigh, she'd rushed to side of the bed, and was now whispering words into his ears. Draco leaned closer to hear what she was saying, certain that her words would push this body into reality.

"I love you so much, sweetie—please come back to me—you can't—please—you're going to be a father, you know that, a father, Draco!"

Draco had a moment to stare at her in overjoyed shock, moving to throw his arms around her no matter how futile, when the world around him exploded in a hazy mix of sound and light. He heard talking, crying, whispering, beeping, he saw a green line zigzagging across a black monitor, saw a room suddenly filled with faceless bodies, and then a white light filled his vision, and he felt as though he were falling away from even his own shadow world, into absolutely nothing.

* * *

AN: I've kicked this idea around for so long that when I finally got the nerve to write it, I realized that I was perhaps two books too late for it to work properly. That is why, much to my chagrin, this story is indeed AU after Order of the Phoenix. Unfortunately, I have read both subsequent books in the series, and make no promises that small items from each won't slip into _Dystopia_, however accidental. 

Disclaimer (applicable to all chapters): Anything recognizable is the work of J.K. Rowling, assuredly not myself.


	2. One

His head was pounding. A bright light was obscuring his vision, and his eyes couldn't focus. The pain was too much to bear.

"He's up!"

"Get that damn light out of the way!"

"Move over, you git, I want to see him, too."

"Draco? Can you hear me, Draco?"

The voices were meaningless, gibberish in his mind. "Water," he managed to croak out, and as if by magic, a cup was pressed to his mouth and cool liquid flowed down his throat as something refreshingly wet was pressed against his forehead.

"Not too much, not too much…"

The cup disappeared. He coughed feebly, the pounding his head beginning to abate. The figures around him became less blurred, and he squeezed his eyes shut once and then opened them, finally able to see the faces of the people surrounding him.

Emotion came before thought. Disgust filled him as he saw the young Weasley girl staring at him with the oddest look and holding a cold compress to his forehead. Beside her, Harry Potter himself stood, and Draco noted with horror that Hermione was beside him, enclosed within the arms of—Professor Snape?!

Draco shut his eyes again. Clearly, something was seriously wrong with him.

"Budge up, budge up, let me through—Are you supposed to all be in here at once? Out, everyone."

Draco refused to open his eyes, and so it was a disembodied voice that argued with a cacophony of protest, finally winning only by a yell that made Draco wince, "Two minutes! OUT!"

He felt someone's lips descend on his forehead, felt several hands patting his hands and shoulders, and then there was nothing.

"What in the bloody hell is going on?"

"Calm down, Mr. Malfoy," said a harried man in a long white jacket. "I understand that you may not fully understand some of your surroundings right now."

That's for damn sure, Draco thought to himself. Namely, the surroundings that had just been ushered out of the room. Ginevra Weasley? Hermione Granger? _Harry Potter?_

Draco winced as he moved his hand to his head, then gasped as a sharp pain wrenched through him.

"You're going to pull out that IV if you're not careful, Mr. Malfoy."

IV? There was a tube in the back of his hand. A tube. Going under his skin.

"I think I'm going to be sick," Draco muttered, and when a pink bucket was shoved before his face, proceeded to do so.

* * *

Outside Draco's room, there was general chaos. 

"He's up, he's up!" Fred whooped, having just arrived. Beside him, Molly and Arthur were holding a hushed conversation as to who was returning to the wizarding world from their current location in Muggle London to notify those who weren't present.

Severus Snape had a look that those who knew him would identify as relief. His arm tightened imperceptibly around Hermione Granger, who glanced up at him with a smile.

On Severus' other side, Lucius Malfoy stood, his arm resting on the chair his wife Narcissa sat in. Tears flowed silently down her face as she clasped her husband's hand, and he weakly rubbed her shoulder with his free hand.

"I want to see him, Lucius," Narcissa whispered, her voice hoarse with joy.

"Soon, Cissa, soon."

Across the room, Harry Potter chatted excitedly with a man who had just arrived, Blaise Zabini. Their conversation was barely intelligible, both of them speaking at once and often having to repeat things as a result.

"Can't even believe that we were as lucky as we were—"

"Had to be luck. Couldn't have been anything else."

"—I know that it's far from over, that's for sure, but he's up, woke up just now—"

"It can't be over, but you know how it is, cut off the head and the rest and all that. And he woke up?"

"A few minutes ago, and you should have seen Ginny's face—"

"Oh, I wonder how Ginny is really taking all this drama—When did he wake up?"

"Just now, Blaise!"

Bill Weasley had entered just in time to hear the tail end of Harry and Blaise's nonsensical conversation and was cut off mid sentence.

"Here to relieve you, Fred—He's up?!"

Laughing, Fred clapped his brother on the shoulder, and then mimicked Harry's exasperated response. "Just now, Bill!"

Bill said nothing, staring in shock at his brother. "I don't believe it…" He whispered, more to himself than anything. "Not one casualty… Not one."

"Well, we'll have several if someone doesn't notify everyone who's not here now!" Fred said with a wry grin. For almost a week, Draco's room had never been void of at least one of the Weasley brothers. Rotating in four hour shifts, each had sat with Draco's parents and Ginny, who left the hospital only to shower, taking their meals and sleeping in the dingy waiting room. Severus and Hermione, along with Harry, had also been present the vast majority of the time, Hermione seemingly lending strength to her husband of three years while Harry acted as a runner, relaying information to those not present as soon as it was received.

"Gin, are you excited to tell him?" Hermione asked quietly, having left Severus with Lucius and Narcissa. Ginny was still, a serene smile on her face. Her hands were clasped tightly in her lap, and she rested upon the edge of her seat as though any second she would spring forward.

"I can't wait, Hermione," Ginny said, impatience and excitement colouring her words. "We hadn't even been certain that this was possible, and then when—"

"No need to explain, Gin," Hermione said gently. No one needed reminders of how distraught Ginevra and Draco had been with the news that pregnancy would be difficult for Ginevra.

"He'll be so excited," Ginny said in a voice barely above a whisper. "He'll be so excited…"

The doctor reappeared at the door to Draco's room, and as one, the people in the waiting room surged forward.

"Wait," the doctor began, holding up one hand in an effort to stop the crowd, but it did no good. People streamed around him to fill Draco's room once more.

* * *

Draco had squeezed his eyes shut again, his conversation with his doctor having given him a headache. 

"All righty, Mr. Malfoy, you seem to be all right now…" his doctor had said, bustling about the small room with a container full of what had once been the contents of Draco's stomach.

"Fine?" Draco asked in a deceptively soft voice. "I am not fine. Why am I here?"

At this, the doctor froze in the action of marking on his chart, and slowly looked up. "You are here because you were injured, Mr. Malfoy." The look on his face could best be described as astonished disbelief.

"In what way? Was I involved in an accident in--" Draco swallowed the words he'd planning to use, "at my school?"

The doctor seemed to be becoming flustered quickly. He flipped through the papers on Draco's chart, finally settling on something that made his eyes widen. "At school, Mr. Malfoy? Do you teach?"

"Of course not," Draco said scathingly, one side of lip curling up in impatience. Why in heaven's name were Muggles so incompetent? "I'm a student there."

The doctor said nothing. His lips pressed together in a firm line, and his eyes darted from the board before him to the man on the bed, and back again. Just as Draco was about to snap at his doctor's obvious incompetence, the doctor began to murmur in a confused tone.

"If you'll excuse me, Mr. Malfoy, I'm going to have to, ah, retrieve some… that is, run some—" The doctor shook his head as if to clear it, then turned to walk out of the room. "Just keep resting, Mr. Malfoy."

"I've rested bloody long enough!"

Draco's annoyance hadn't even slowed the doctor, who'd slid the door firmly shut behind him as he exited. With a sigh, Draco had flopped backwards onto his pillows, rolling his eyes at the stupidity he was subjected to. His parents, he needed to reach his parents somehow. He'd hallucinated that gaggle of Gryffindor idiots before him, and he needed to be under the care of a competent wizard, not these Muggle fools.

Raising one hand to his face without opening his eyes, Draco winced as his headache intensified. Oh, what he would give for one of his godfather's lovely creations right now, one that would soothe the shooting pain in his skull and deaden the drums that seem to have taken residence within him. His eyes snapped open as he thought of his godfather. An image niggled at his thoughts for the briefest of instants before leaping to the forefront of his mind.

Professor Snape with his arms wrapping around Granger. Not around her neck, as expected, but an… embrace, if he had to call it anything. Disgust filled him. It was a dream, a hideous dream of a world spiraled into madness.

Then the door burst open and the world fell to hell once more.

"Sweet lord, Draco, you had us worried—"

"Bet you're just bursting to find out what happened, eh? We got him, got him good—"

"Ron, George, and Charlie are on the way, dear, Bill went to fetch them—"

Draco stared up in horror at the assorted Weasleys who had gathered around his bed. The girl, Gina or Ginny or something, had grabbed his hand, and he snatched it back almost immediately. Looking up at her, he noted her haggard appearance. She looked so run down, she'd seemed to have aged years.

"What's wrong, Draco?" She asked, concern lacing her tone.

He didn't spare the girl a thought, looking over her head. This crowd of unwelcome well-wishers must include someone he approved of. "Mother? Father?"

"They're just outside the door, Draco," Professor Snape said, stepping forward as the redheads before him parted. "Your mother was rather distraught with your ordeal, understandably."

Why the hell was Professor Snape being so… nice? There was no 'understandably', because this was his own godfather, Severus Snape. There was no understanding, fullstop.

"I need to speak to you, Professor Snape," Draco said, missing the flicker of confusion that passed over his godfather's face at the title. When no one else in the room made a movement to leave, he hissed, "_alone_."

Not a person in the room moved. The only sound was a constant beeping from the machines resting beside the bed. Draco's patience was fast dwindling, and he took a deep breath before nearly yelling, "Can none of you twits hear? I don't know why you're here, and I sure as hell don't want you here. Go lick Potter's boots, or whatever it is you do with your free time, and get out!"

Far from cowering in terror of fleeing the room as Draco had desired, everyone in the room appeared shocked. Snape was looking at him as though he had just proclaimed a love for Divination, and the Weasley girl looked close to tears. Not a word was said, so in a desperate effort to get rid of the crowd before him, he focused his anger and confusion on the girl.

"What's wrong, Weasley? Family even more broke than usual? At least before you could afford to eat."

Silence, dead silence, permeated the room, and a mixture of emotions flitted across the faces of the occupants. However, as he had been looking at Ginevra, as he recalled her name was, she was the only one he saw after his statement.

There were no tears. There was no anger or rage forming in her eyes. Instead, she seemed to retreat into herself, her shoulders falling and mouth going slack, eyes glazing and though she hadn't stopped looking at him, blank eyes focused on something he couldn't see. And all around her, no one spoke.

In the silence that prevailed upon the occupants of the room, the doctor's softly spoken words could be heard clearly.

"Retrograde amnesia- it's rare even with frontal lobe injuries, and we'll be giving Mr. Malfoy all of the necessary tests over the next few days. Unfortunately," the doctor took a deep breath before continuing, "There is no known remedy for this condition."

Ginevra was the first to move, a strangled cry escaping her lips as she shook off Severus' reaching hand and threw herself out into the hallway.

* * *

Ginevra was crying. That was the first thing that entered his hazy thoughts, and he tried desperately to focus on the sound of his wife's sobs. Slowly, slowly, a room materialized around him. 

The room was of the same colour scheme as his room, but there was no bed here. Rather, chairs were lined against the wall, empty hallways leading in and out. A door was set into a wall. It had no knob, Draco noticed for an instant, than the sound of sobbing intensified and Draco whirled around.

"This can't be happening," Ginevra was chanting between gulps of air. "This can't be happening, this can't be happening…"

She had collapsed into a chair, and he rushed over to her before forgetting that she wasn't aware of him. Wrapping his arms around her form regardless, he cursed whatever plane of existence allowed him to see his wife's tears, but do nothing to comfort her.

No one else was in the empty room, and Draco ran to a door, peering out to see if anyone else was coming. Beyond the door was nothing. Draco gulped. He was staring into nothing, the same nothing that had washed over him before—

She was pregnant! Memory flooded back into his mind, and Draco again returned to her side, placing his hand on top of hers. She'd ceased chanting, and was now just breathing heavily, nodding as though she was listening to someone. A quick glance confirmed that no one was there.

Draco looked around desperately. Was she alone in the hospital? What had driven her to this emotional outburst?

He knelt before Ginevra as her head fell forward, and cradled her face between his hands. Her eyes were glued to the floor, and the nodding had ceased.

"Gin, baby," Draco murmured desperately, "I know you can't hear me--" He paused, frowning at his own foolishness. If he knew she couldn't hear him, than why did he even waste his breath?

Exhaling, he stared into her eyes, which were focused on nothing. He was helpless to do anything, and in defeat, he slowly moved his head forward until their foreheads touched. He closed his eyes, and when he opened them again, Ginevra was focused on his face.

"Ginny?" Draco shifted backward, never letting go of her face, and her eyes followed his. "Ginny!"

A low hum began to fill the room, building into a cacophony of sound. Gasping, Draco wrenched his eyes away from his wife as figures materialised to the room.

A voice spoke from directly behind him, and he overbalanced and toppled to his side, twisting as he fell to see who was talking.

His own mother was kneeling primly before Ginevra, her hands resting on Ginevra's. Though tears were streaming down her own face, she spoke bravely.

"We can try to see how much we can bring back. The doctor never said this was permanent… We'll get him to a real doctor, not these silly Muggle folk-"

"Narcissa," Lucius said softly. Beside him, Molly Weasley was bawling into Arthur's arms. Arthur shifted, moving his head to the other side of his wife's so he could whisper to Lucius.

"Have you tried to speak with him yet?" Arthur asked, stroking Molly's hair.

"No," Lucius said, glancing pointedly down at his barely-restrained wife, who was still trying to comfort Ginevra. "I don't really think Narcissa could handle it if he wasn't able to recognize us either."

"He seemed to be familiar of the people themselves, just not his relationships with them—Well, current relationships, that is. His behavior would be completely normal if it were, say, 1998?"

Draco sat on the ground, listening to Arthur intently. So, he was back, but not entirely back.

"He remembered Severus, actually. Knew his name, profession— That's the weird thing actually, he called him 'Professor Snape', and Merlin knows he hasn't called him that since he left Hogwarts."

"Professor Snape," Draco said out loud. The words felt unnatural in his mouth. "Professor Snape. Professor—" Severus was here. He was here, and maybe he could help him. Draco looked around wildly. He knew Severus was in the hospital, but he wasn't here. He wasn't in this place with Draco.

"He got Ginny's name right, too. But he treated her, well… Just like I would have expected him to, years ago."

That explained the tears. Draco looked at Ginevra sadly. How could he have hurt her so badly without even being aware of it?

"The doctor doesn't know if he'll ever recover his memory, Lucius."

Lucius' face betrayed no emotion as he replied flatly. "For Ginevra's sake, he'd better. If he can remember myself and Narcissa, that is some small comfort, at least—"

"A comfort to you. I know only one thing- the man lying in that bed is not the Draco Malfoy I know. As much as I'd like not to believe it, that man may no longer exist."

"I exist!" Draco said, climbing to his feet and running to where Arthur shook his head sadly at Lucius. "I exist, I exist, I'm right in front of you—See me! Please, please—Just see me!"

Draco spun around, flinging himself into an empty seat in despair. He couldn't not exist. This couldn't be death, could it? Physically, he was fine. And from the sound of it, mentally, he was functioning, but… Incomplete. A fine way to think of it, actually—Part of him was missing, but not one that was necessary to live. He was missing from himself, but didn't miss himself… Helplessness was overtaking him, and he was only confusing himself further.

"This doesn't make any sense," Draco said, needing to speak in order to not get lost in his thoughts. "I'm, I'm… I'm not finished! It didn't work!" Draco wasn't even certain who he was yelling at. Whoever was responsible for this? The people in front of him who couldn't even hear him? Himself?

"I'm more than a memory! I'm more than just a memory, damn it!"

* * *

Disclaimer: See prologue 


	3. Two

He should really name it, Draco thought to himself. Name the phenomena, name the place he now inhabited. Or hell, maybe it wasn't really him. It was close enough.

"Dystopia."

Not everything was wrong, to be honest. His parents were fine. His friends had battled and won, unscathed. Ginevra was still alive in this world. She was pregnant, healthy, and surrounded by people who loved her. Not him, though. Not the Draco who was still in touch with everyone. That Draco hated her, because he didn't know he wasn't supposed to. And even though it hurt Ginevra, there was the possibility that she would heal with time. Raise their baby with the help of her family and friends. Succeed in life, without him. No, not everything was wrong.

But nothing was right.

* * *

The formerly steaming hot bath Ginny was sitting in had cooled to being merely tepid. Lifting one hand out of the water, she observed her wrinkled hand blankly.

She'd been so afraid that he was dead. Muggles had shown up, seen her clutching his still body and sobbing, and promptly removed him in what Hermione later informed her was an ambulance. Obnoxiously flashing lights, loud, irritating sirens… And in addition, a speed no faster than that of her father's Queen Victoria.

Ginny smiled to herself. Sometimes the prejudices of her in-laws crept into her own mind, though she steadfastly pushed them away. The smile faded as the lone moment of amusement slipped away. Her hand fell back into the water, splashing droplets onto her face.

For days, nothing could be done but wait, and wait Ginny did. From what she heard from her friends and family, the wizarding world was in uproar. Voldemort himself had been killed, but his Death Eaters remained. Twisted beyond the point of the mad devotion they'd had, the former Death Eaters had split into unorganized, leaderless sects, rife with disloyalty and distrust. Severus Snape and Lucius Malfoy, both having assisted the Order, were now as prime targets as Harry Potter himself. They were, however, invaluable in hunting down some of the trickier of Voldemort's followers, and did so from their new temporary residence per Dumbledore's insistence.

Ginny frowned and stretched. Both men had been rather irate with having to go into hiding, but it was necessary, not cowardly, as Dumbledore had explained patiently multiple times. In fact, Ginny had the sneaking suspicion that had it not been for the ire of their respective wives, they would have never acquiesced at all.

But the Order had agreed. Both Severus Snape and Lucius Malfoy, who had yet to clear his name, would be ensconced within number twelve, Grimmauld Place, until it was deemed safe to return once more. Narcissa and Hermione accompanied them, the only two people who seemed able to calm them. Just as Ginny had been able to with Draco.

Sitting up abruptly, Ginny got out of her bath and grabbed a towel. She'd been thinking too much lately, and no good could ever come of that. She was still someone's wife. There was still hope for Draco, as the Muggle doctor had explained a few days before, though recovery might take years or happen overnight. After his parents had removed him from the Muggle hospital, they'd immediately had him checked out at St. Mungo's. Unfortunately, doctors were just as perplexed by Draco's condition, if not more. Specializing in magical injuries, something as "Muggle" as a head injury was almost past the scope of their abilities. Low stress levels, they'd suggested, no unnecessary anxiety, and most importantly, no Dreamless Sleep potion. If Draco was to recover any of his memories, it would likely occur as it did with fading Memory Charms: while he slept.

Ginny scowled at her reflection as she began to towel dry her hair. After hearing of her first "meeting" with Draco, Narcissa had suggested gently that she would perhaps be better off staying with her parents until Draco had recovered some modicum of his memories. Hearing the woman whom Ginny now regarded as a close friend send her away had chafed, but Ginny did understand, and upon further thought, had realized that if she did continue to stay at Malfoy Manor, she would no doubt be just as upset as Draco would be. Therefore, Ginny was back in the Burrow, Molly doting on her almost fanatically.

Ginny dressed quickly and headed downstairs. Her bath had run long, and no doubt that would worry her mother.

True to form, Ginny literally ran into Molly, who was headed up to check on her.

"Late for breakfast again, Ginny! It's all cold now, and one of these days, I'm going to stop keeping the Warming Charm on it—You're eating for two now, let's not forget that. What would Draco say?"

Ginevra sighed. "Probably something derogatory and cruel."

"Oh, for the love of--" Molly grabbed her daughter in a one armed hug that was a bit stronger than absolutely necessary and marched her down the stairs. "Not _that_ Draco, the real Draco--"

"They're one and the same, Mum."

"Nonsense." Molly directed Ginny to a seat across from her father, who looked up from his issue of the Daily Prophet with a warm smile. Grabbing a plate heaped with food, Molly set it before Ginny and then straightened, continuing, "Draco will come around, don't you worry, dear. Now, Hermione floo'd me. She said you were both to do a spot of shopping today?"

Ginny groaned. "Mum, just tell her I really don't feel up to it--"

"It'll do you good to get out of the house! Three days since you've seen the sun, and to think, when you were younger, it was all I could do to drag you in for dinner."

"Molly, dearest, perhaps Gin just wants a bit more of a rest. It's not as though her last week was what you'd call relaxing." Arthur was already at the table, the remains of his breakfast scattered on the surface of the table where his plate ended and before his lap began. Ginny hid a smile as she noticed the scrap of egg dangling precariously off his askew clip-on tie—a new trend from the Mugle world, at least for Arthur.

Molly turned on him with a glare that made Ginny cringe. "What do you suggest,_dearest_? That she continue to mope around the house about something that she's powerless to change?" With her silky tones, there were times when Ginny thought her mother bore more than a passing resemblance to one Severus Snape.

"I'll go, Mother, I'll go." It wasn't worth arguing about, particularly as her mother rarely relented. Grabbing two pieces of cold toast from the table, Ginny paused to kiss her father on the forehead, grabbed another piece of toast, and then headed back up to her room. It wouldn't be horribly difficult to pretend that nothing much was wrong for one day. After all, she'd learned from the best.

* * *

Unfortunately, Ginny had overlooked the important fact that her husband's reticence was inspired and cultivated due to his interaction with Hermione's husband, and she'd learned her lessons well.

"Don't think I don't see you fidgeting."

Ginny looked up from her drink, annoyed. "I didn't know it was a crime."

Hermione waved her hand at the near-empty bottle Ginny was sliding from one hand to the other across the counter. "It doesn't matter that you're fidgeting," she said matter-of-factly, making Ginny yearn to be back at home. "What matters is what that signifies. Besides, you would have never agreed to come to the Three Broomsticks so early in the day if you didn't feel like you needed it."

The wooden counter had a splinter sticking up that hindered the bottle as Ginny slid it from hand to hand. She ground the edge of the bottle into it, obliterating it. "I'm drinking a Butterbeer. And fidgeting really isn't all that out of the ordinary."

"It is for you. Since you married Draco, you do it very rarely."

Ginny's head snapped up at the mention of his name. "Maybe not." Not him, not him… "You know, you used to fidget, too. Chewed on your hair all the time, but not anymore."

Hermione said nothing, giving Ginny a small smile. Ginny's eyes dropped back to her bottle, cursing the universe for allowing Hermione to acquire such skills in reading people – and ignoring any attempts to change the subject – from dealings with her own taciturn husband.

"I won't push it, you know." Liar, Ginny thought, emptying the bottle of the last few drops.

"You are already."

"Only a little, and for your own good."

The stilted conversation made Ginny long for another drink, and she motioned Madam Rosmerta over. "Strongest thing you have," Ginny muttered, earning a quirked eyebrow from Rosmerta and amusement from Hermione. "She means a Butterbeer, whereas I will take something a tad stronger," Hermione said, her eyes sparkling in a way Ginny found annoying. "Trying to be the best drinker, too?" she asked before she could stop herself.

"Not at all," Hermione said easily. Her unwillingness to rise to any bait made Ginny scowl.

"Hermione, I don't want to talk about it."

"Will you at least admit you're upset?"

Ginny slammed her bottle onto the counter. "I'm upset, Hermione! And- "

"No, that's all," Hermione said to Ginny, giving Madam Rosmnerta a smile of gratitude as their drinks arrived. Ginny gaped, unable to think of what she wanted to say to the smug woman before her.

"You insufferable-"

"Ginny, I don't want you to have a breakdown," Hermione said quietly. "But you can't pretend that you're fine. No one expects you to be, and they'll only worry more if they think you're hiding it for their sakes. Please, trust me on that."

Ginny sipped from her Butterbeer, and then slowly began the same sliding motion again on the counter with the fuller bottle. Another splinter, one that she stared at with eyes beginning to blur with tears. "I'm not fine, Hermione."

"And that's all right. Now, finish up your Butterbeer, and let's get to the rest of our day."


End file.
